


Choice

by hit_the_books



Series: Seraph Books [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Bisexual Sam, Blow Jobs, Chuck Helps Sam, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Sam, Gaslighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Netflix and Chill, Non-Consensual Bondage, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Suicide Attempt, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Writer Chuck Shurley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9926630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: Valentine's Day is soon, but Sam doesn't want anything to so with it. Even if he's been going steady with Chuck since the previous summer.But as Chuck works to help Sam get through Valentine's Day, Sam's past tries to rear its ugly head.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You really should check out [Tall and Handsome](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7913404) before reading this part, if you haven't already.
> 
> This was written for round 7 of the [SPN Rare Ships Creation Challenge](http://rareshipcreationschallenge.tumblr.com). My prompt was "Do you find commitment issues sexy?". My partner was [lux-tuli](http://lux-tuli.tumblr.com/).
> 
> This fic is not intended to glorify the issues depicted. The rape/non-con is referenced in dialogue and is not depicted, the same with the past attempted suicide.

It’s kinda hard to miss that Valentine’s Day is on the way. The only way Sam could miss it is if he decided to hole up in his room at Dean’s—formally the guest room—and just watch Netflix, stepping out only to use the bathroom and smuggle food. But he’s pretty sure that Dean would object to this course of action. So would Sam’s boyfriend, Chuck. _And my therapist, can’t forget her_ , Sam thinks to himself as he stops along the street that leads to Chuck’s bookstore-come-café.

Seraph Books looks the same as it did when Sam first walked into it the previous summer. Except for one minor detail. The windows set into its brown brick walls have smatterings of hearts and cupids. Sam might be averse to the trappings of Valentine’s this year, but that doesn’t mean Chuck can be if he wants his store to make a few extra bucks. Pushing his hands deep into his jean pockets, Sam sighs and heads along the side of the store.

There’s a book display in one window filled with the greatest “romance” novels of all time. And while Sam doesn’t want much of anything to do with Valentine’s Day this year, he fondly recalls reading many of the novels in the store window. _Pride and Prejudice, Les Liaisons Dangereuses, Norwegian Wood, The Graduate, Wuthering Heights, The Reader_ and _Madame Bovary_ were all novels that Sam had read, written notes inside the pages of and cherishes inside his heart. He’s thankful that there isn’t a copy of _50 Shades of Grey_ to be found in the window, not that Chuck could make much selling copies of it anyway.

The bell for the door rings as Sam pushes it open and he sees Chuck at his espresso machine, busily whipping something up for an early customer, a short young woman that Sam doesn’t recognize. Chuck is wearing a green hoodie that Sam always thinks Chuck looks cute in. There’s two second hand novels on the counter beside the register that the customer keeps tapping fondly. Sam can see a copy of book one of the _Dresden Files_ , and _The Shining—hmmm, not read either of those before_ , Sam thinks to himself.

“Here’s your caramel skinny latte with an extra shot of espresso,” Chuck announces, putting a lid on the cup and sliding it into a cardboard sleeve. “So, that is eleven for the books and three fifty for the latte.”

Handing over cash, the customer treats Chuck to a warm smile and Sam feels a flare of jealousy start to unfurl. But then the customer turns and leaves, bell tinkling in her wake, and it’s just Sam and Chuck left in the store. Sam straightens his red plaid shirt and then steps behind the counter to sweep Chuck into his arms.

He hugs Chuck close and tight, breathes in the shorter man’s coffee scented hair and nuzzles at the side of his head. Sam moans lightly, throat rumbling and then tilts Chuck’s head back so they can kiss. Chuck’s short peppered beard tickles Sam’s cheeks, but he doesn’t care as he and Chuck kiss like they haven’t seen each other in days. Really it was just last night, down at the Roadhouse. Even so, it feels like an age to Sam.

Pulling back slightly, Sam catches Chuck looking at the cuffs of his shirt, but he doesn’t say anything. The scars are there on Sam’s wrists, but there’s no bandages anymore, not like when the two of them had first met.

“What’s on today’s schedule?” Chuck asks, hand stroking Sam’s back.

“Hmmmm, I’ve got a session with Missouri just before lunch. And I’m probably gonna check in at the rescue,” Sam informs Chuck.

“But it’s your day off,” Chuck points out.

Ducking down, Sam kisses Chuck on the cheek, bangs forming a short curtain around them. “That lab, Penny, her pups are due any day now.”

“That explains everything… You, uh, talked to Dean yet about getting a dog?”

Sam sighs and kisses Chuck’s forehead. “No. He still doesn’t understand why I’m okay working there for not much above minimum wage. But,” Sam kisses Chuck’s forehead again, “it makes me happy, being there.”

Humming, Chuck stands on tiptoes a little and kisses the tip of Sam’s nose. “I know, babe. I know.”

Sam might still find it hard to believe he and Chuck are together, but his blush at “babe” is more out of fondness than real embarrassment. Sam buries his face in the side of Chuck’s neck and breathes in the book-selling barista. There’s the constant scent of fresh coffee, but also the slight mustiness of well loved pages and a lingering musk that is one hundred percent Chuck. Acting like no one will walk into the store in the next second, Sam licks Chuck’s neck.

That gets Chuck putting his whole weight on Sam, hands scrabbling for purchase. Sam continues to lick and taste the side of Chuck’s neck, blood going south and wishing that they had time for more. And then Sam wonders if he would freak out if they finally went for _more_. Mouth clamping down on Chuck’s neck, Sam wetly sucks a hickey into Chuck’s pale flesh, hips grinding against Chuck of their own accord. The short bookseller growls and holds onto Sam, pulling them closer together as he rubs against Sam.

Tension in his jaw just getting to the point where he knows he’ll leave a noticeable mark, Sam finally lets go of Chuck’s neck. Mouth wetly popping off, Sam looks down at his handiwork— there’s a thin red crescent as long as Chuck’s little finger on his neck.

“You know it’s Valentine’s this month and not Halloween, right?” jokes Chuck as the two of them disentangle, his face flushed.

Sam glances over into the shining side of the espresso machine and sees that they’re both equally red. Swallowing, Sam bobs his head. “Y-yeah. I know what month it is. Kinda hard not to notice,” Sam grumbles, stepping away from the counter. _Kinda hard to miss_. “I’m gonna find something to buy.”

Sam doesn’t see the way Chuck gives him a worried glance while he disappears in among the books.

***

Putting a delivery away, Chuck tries not to think too much while he works. But it’s hard not too when he isn’t serving a customer or writing. He replays the morning over in his head, focusing on Sam. It had been hard to miss the way Sam just sort of curled in on himself at the mention of Valentine’s Day and Chuck has the feeling that he should probably scale back his original plans.

There’s a lot Sam hasn’t told Chuck about his relationship with his ex, Ruby, and Chuck knows this. He’s not curious, so he’s never asked for information, but he can’t help worrying about Sam. They’ve been taking the physical side of their relationship relatively slow and Chuck has done nothing but support this, keenly aware that Sam had had a lot of his bodily autonomy stripped from him when he had been with Ruby.

Sam’s let his hair grow out far longer than what it was when he first met Chuck, its bob almost touching his shoulders now. He sometimes doesn’t shave and at first Chuck had worried that this was a sign of Sam being depressed, but he found out from Sam that Ruby insisted that he always be clean shaven and have short hair. Choosing not to shave and to not cut his hair had been a way of Sam pulling back some more control.

Still, he was now realizing that his plan for a surprise fancy meal and a hotel room were perhaps not the best things to go for. That maybe he should ask Sam if he wanted to do anything on Valentine’s Day. Stacking the final book from the delivery, Chuck decides he’ll try to talk to Sam.

***

“How are you feeling today, Sam?” Missouri Moseley asks, notebook on her lap, pen poised and ready to make notes. Missouri cuts an intimidating figure from across the room, luscious brown hair doing nothing to offset the stern gaze she always greets Sam with.

Sam absentmindedly traces the scars on his wrists. “So-so.”

“So-so? Okay, but not okay?”

Sam shrugs and lets out a long breath. “Just the… time of year is, I dunno, maybe starting to grate a bit is all.”

“Not a fan of Valentine’s Day then?” Missouri ponders out loud.

Shrugging again, Sam shrinks in on himself, pushing as far back into the therapist’s couch as he can. “Wasn’t like my last one was a great time.”

Missouri nods sagely, seeming to catch on as to where Sam’s discomfort is stemming from. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Sam shrugs again. “It’s just…”

“Yes?”

 _God, this is painful_ , Sam thinks to himself as his wounded psyche shivers at memories he doesn’t really want much to do with anymore. He tries to find the words to explain, but it’s tough. His tongue is thick in his mouth and he has to reach out for his glass of water on the coffee table in front of him. He drinks the cool water down and places the glass back on the table.

“Ruby didn’t exactly make me feel like Valentine’s was something to be enjoyed,” Sam starts, rubbing his hands together. “I had to make sure everything was perfect. And I had to be like this guy I wasn’t. She made me _dress up_ ,” Sam explains.

The outfit last Valentine’s had consisted of Sam waking up with a collar around his throat that was locked. That collar had been the beginning of the end of his and Ruby’s relationship. He’d tried to make clear so many times that he didn’t want to do that sort of thing. But that previous Valentine’s, Ruby made it clear that if Sam loved her, he’d keep the collar on. Shame washes over as he sits opposite Missouri and he ends up with his face in his hands, trying so hard not to cry.

“Hey, if you need to cry, Sam, you know you’re allowed to. You’re safe here, I’ll never judge you,” Missouri reassures in a soothing tone.

Sucking in deep breaths, Sam tries not to panic, to make himself understand that Missouri’s words are true. Sitting up straighter, Sam nods and plays with a loose thread on the hem of his shirt.

“I know… She said I had to do whatever she told me to do. No matter what, while I wore that collar. It was hard. But you know what she had… So I agreed,” Sam explains, Missouri already informed about the “photos” of Sam Ruby had kept, and his credit cards and ID that she’d kept under lock and key back then. Ruby had done so much to control Sam’s life and he hadn't realized from the start of their relationship, hadn’t noticed all these gradual thefts of autonomy.

“There was a leash on that collar,” Sam continues. “She made me eat her out and then fuck her… There wasn’t any chocolates or champagne, just her using me for whatever she wanted for the entire day.” But there was something else beyond being used that Ruby tried to force on Sam that day. “She tried to get me to do coke as well, pulling my head down to tabled lines. I’d never taken anything like that before.

“I didn’t want it and I had to reason with her that I was drug tested at work. I know she relied on my money, and she cared more about losing that than me not wanting to snort a line.”

Missouri’s eyes are wet as she hands Sam a tissue from the box on the coffee table. “That sounds terrible.”

And it was—Sam likes that Missouri calls stuff for what it was/is. “I didn’t want the collar on and it took most of the day, the night, to find the key. But I finally did and I got the collar off. Ruby found out and hit me, _hard_ ,” Sam explains, voice going a little cold and distant. Like he doesn’t want to remember the physical or the mental pain.

Looking back at that previous Valentine’s, Sam isn’t sure why he waited so long past that day to leave Ruby. But he had and there is nothing he can do about it now.

“I can see why Valentine’s might be tough for you this year. Have you talked to Chuck about this? What if he’s planning something?”

Sam had suspected Chuck might have something in the works, but Sam was unsure. Sam shrugs.

“You need to talk to Chuck about this, Sam,”

But just because that is the logical thing to do doesn’t make it any easier an idea to contemplate.

***

“Do you have a copy of _Madame Bovary_ in the French?” inquires a woman’s voice from behind Chuck. He’d had his back turned to the door when the bell tinkled a minute ago, but there’s something about the voice that makes him immediately abandon his quest to sort through takeaway cups by size.

Turning, Chuck suddenly wishes he could just summon the might of Heaven right then and smite the woman stood in front of him. Ruby is grinning like the cat that’s got the cream, dark chestnut hair looking unruffled and perfect. He hadn’t recognized her voice on account of only meeting the bitch twice.

Anger boils inside of Chuck and he has to force himself not to bare his teeth. “What do you want?”

“Madame Bovary, in French.”

“I find that hard to believe. Like, there are other bookstores in this town. You didn’t just come here for some Flaubert in French.”

Ruby’s grin widens and she gives him a doe like innocent gaze. “I’m only here for some Flaubert. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“Get out of my store,” Chuck rumbles, hands clenching into fists under the counter.

“You won’t serve little ol’ me?” Ruby smirks and Chuck is pretty sure she’s only at the store in the hope of bumping into Sam. The proximity to Valentine's Day probably twisting Ruby’s desire to make up with her ex.

“No. Now get out and don’t come here again.”

“But don’t you want to know why I’m here?”

Chuck’s jaw ticks. “Sicko that you are, you’re hoping you’ll be able to bump into Sam and persuade him to come back to your nightmare. It’s not gonna happen, Ruby. Sam doesn’t need you. Doesn’t want you. So get out.”

“But I want Madame Bovary.” Ruby flutters her eyelashes at Chuck and he can’t figure out what the Hell is Sam’s ex’s deal. Then an idea clicks in his head: _she wants Sam to come back so she start it all over again, even if she doesn’t consciously think that. She’s deluded_.

Standing to the fullness of his short height, Chuck glares at Ruby, hoping that the unimpressed wrathful stare he gives her will be enough to persuade her to fuck right off. “I’m not serving you. Now get out of my store and don’t come back.”

Seeming to realize that she’s not going to get anywhere, Ruby narrows her eyes at Chuck, but then turns on her heel and heads for the door. Stopping in front of it, Sam’s tormentor turns to Chuck again, menacing grin drawing her features tight. “You can’t give Sam what he needs,” she simpers, hand on the door handle.

“Get out!” Chuck snarls, voice going just a hint deeper than its normal tone.

Ruby blanches and retreats, door hastily snapping shut behind and making the bell ring.

Slowly, Chuck loosens his clenched fists. There’s a wetness to his palms and expecting to see them covered in panic sweat, Chuck is surprised when he sees bloody crescents on the heels of his palms.

Getting a paper napkin, Chuck dabs at the blood. He’s trying not shake, but he needs to call someone. Not wanting to put Sam through what had just happened that second, Chuck pulls out his cell and dials Dean’s number, figuring Sam’s older brother would like to hear about Ruby’s visit.

“Hey, Chuck, everything alright?” Dean greets over the cell’s speaker.

Chuck dabs at his hands, cell set on the counter, on speaker, as he talks to Dean. “Just had an unwelcome customer,” Chuck explains. “Ruby came by looking for Sam.”

“Son of a bitch. Sam wasn’t there, was he?”

Chuck shakes his head even though Dean won’t be able to see the movement. “No, thankfully he should be down at the shelter.”

“Thank… yeah that’s something. If she tries anything again… maybe talk to your brother, the lawyer, about applying for a restraining order?”

“Yeah, good idea. Okay, well sorry for bothering you.”

“Hey, no bother. Not when it comes to Sam. Uh, see ya around.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

Dean hangs up and Chuck pockets his cell, hands no longer bleeding.

***

Penny had given birth to five healthy puppies that afternoon, before Sam was shooed away by his boss. Returning to Seraph Books, Sam notices that something is off about Chuck the moment he steps through the doorway.

Chuck’s cleaning the espresso machine with more than his usual rigor and there’s a stony look on his face.

“Everything alright?” Sam asks, stepping up to the counters at the front of the store. There’s a guy at one of the tables behind Sam, looking like he’s just packing up his things.

“Just absolutely fine,” Chuck mumbles angrily. Sam doesn’t miss the wince Chuck’s tone draws out when he realizes how he said what he just said. Chuck drops his rag and rushes over to Sam, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s middle.

The door opens and closes, Chuck’s final customer of the day leaving. Sam hugs Chuck back, wondering what’s gotten his favorite bookseller-come-barista all wound up. Tilting his head down, Sam kisses the top of Chuck’s head.

“What’s up?” Sam asks as Chuck trembles in his arms.

Chuck draws in a breath and looks up at Sam. “Ruby was here earlier. Looking for you,” Chuck answers tonelessly.

“Oh,” Sam replies lamely. He hadn’t expected Chuck to say anything like that. A shitty customer turning up and going prima donna over their coffee—maybe. But Ruby coming to the store and asking after him? That was not something Sam had thought would happen, and part he had obviously hoped that Ruby wouldn’t try to cross his path again.

“I told her to leave. Refused to serve her. She got the message eventually,” Chuck adds, finally looking Sam in the eye.

The warmth and hope Sam had been feeling at helping Penny at the shelter is gone. It’s one thing to spend an hour that day talking to Missouri about the things Ruby did to him, it’s another to find out that Ruby’s been poking around in a place that he normally considers safe. A refuge from all the crap that Ruby had put him through.

“Look, lemme just get the store closed and we can head to the Roadhouse,” Chuck suggests, hand brushing Sam’s back.

The contact is nothing like how Ruby would have touched Sam barely a year ago. It’s soft and unassuming, but feeds love straight into Sam and he finally lets out a breath that he hadn’t known he’d been holding in. Getting his breathing back under control, Sam nods and licks his lips.

“Sounds good,” Sam finally manages to agree.

***

It’s the middle of the week and the Roadhouse is on the right side of busy. The bar’s mostly occupied by the regulars who come there every evening to drink and shoot the breeze with the bar’s owner, Ellen, and each other. Rather than heading for the bar, Sam leads Chuck over to a booth and the two of them sit down opposite each other before Jo, Ellen’s daughter, comes over.

“Hey Sam, Chuck. What’ll be?” Jo has a tray covered in empty glasses in front of her.

“Uh, I’ll have an El Sol and—”

“Any Canadian Rockies in?” Chuck pipes up. There’s no ignoring the eyebrow raise that gets Chuck, but Jo’s use to his drink orders by now not to think anything of him asking for whiskey right off the bat.

Jo nods and heads off to get rid of the empties and get their drinks. Chuck smiles as he feels Sam’s long legs press up against his under the booth’s table.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit early for whiskey?” Sam suddenly asks and then blushes, seeming to think his question was rude.

 _Oh, right. This conversation_ , Chuck thinks, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck. So maybe sometimes he drank more than he should, but really… _but really I should cut back_ , and while Chuck’s past wasn’t as warped as what had happened to Sam, he did have his own demons he’d been trying to keep at bay. Mostly relating to his large, extended family.

“I’ll just have the one,” Chuck promises and Sam gives an approving brush of his legs with his own.

Jo brings their drinks and they sip them in silence. The silence is fine, appreciated even. Watching Sam across from him, Chuck can see Sam begin to relax and return to the calmness he’d had when he’d walked into Chuck’s store earlier. It’s a companionable silence that settles over them.

Then Sam clears his throat. “I do need to talk about something though…”

 _Here it comes_ , but Chuck isn’t sure what he could possibly be dreading. “Okay?”

“I’m not sure I want to celebrate Valentine’s this year,” Sam blurts out.

Quirking an eyebrow at Sam, Chuck tries not to show any disappointment. “Uh, may I… Is it okay to ask why?”

Sam visibly swallows and Chuck can feel Sam’s legs trembling against his. “I didn’t have a good Valentine’s Day last year…” Sam starts and then goes into the whole story.

Anger builds inside of Chuck’s smaller frame and he doesn’t know how he manages to stick to beers as Sam describes what Ruby had done to him the previous Valentine’s. If he’d known any of this before seeing Ruby today, Chuck is unsure if he would have let her walk out of his store on both legs. Staying as visibly calm as he can, Chuck listens and doesn’t pass any judgments as Sam explains everything.

Tale ending, Sam looks small on his side of the booth. Chuck gets up and walks round to Sam, sliding in beside the taller man. Chuck doesn’t care who might see them as he wraps his left arm around Sam’s waist and uses his right to draw Sam down into a kiss. The kiss is firm and steady, not heated, but a point of physical contact that can do more than titillate. Wishing he could just will Sam some of his strength and comfort, Chuck does what he can to show Sam that he will never treat him like that.

Finally breaking the kiss, Chuck looks up at Sam and smiles. “We don’t have to do anything. We could just get a pizza and watch Netflix.”

A hopeful smile creeps onto Sam’s face. “That does sound good… I know Dean will be out, trying to find someone,” Sam announces, changing the subject slightly.

“Oh?” Chuck nuzzles against Sam’s shoulder.

“He calls Valentine’s “unattached drifter Christmas”.”

“Your brother’s a real charmer when he wants to be,” Chuck points out.

Sam huffs out a laugh and strokes a hand through Chuck’s hair. “You say that, but I once heard him try to pick up a woman by saying, and I quote, “Do you find commitment issues sexy?””

 _That’s ridiculous_. A laugh erupts out of Chuck, making his body shake as he fights for air while laughing. It takes a few minutes for his laughter to die down. In control of himself again, Chuck takes a deep breath. “Then that’s more reason to Netflix and chill on Valentine’s Day—we need to avoid coming across Dean’s terrible flirting.”

There’s a sharp drawing of breath by Sam and it takes a second for Chuck to realize what he’s just said. He can’t believe he just said “Netflix and chill”.

“Of course we don’t have to actually Netflix and _chill_ , y’know,” Chuck backpedals. “We can actually just watch something on Netflix and eat pizza.”

Sam leans in and kisses Chuck’s mouth, tongue slowly slipping inside. One of Sam’s hands cups the back of Chuck’s head while the other rests low on his back. Pulled in close, Chuck breathes in Sam and moans low in his throat as the two of them continue to kiss. Thoughts turning filthier with each passing second, Chuck concludes that he should be ready to Netflix and _chill_ on Valentine’s in case Sam wants more.

***

It’s a week later. They’re in Chuck’s apartment, sat on the couch. A box with two remaining slices of pizza sits half open on the coffee table in front of them along with a couple of empty beers. Sam can’t remember what film they were watching, because he’s got a lapful of Chuck and he’s skating his hands up and down Chuck’s sides, under Chuck’s shirt, while his boyfriend steals his air.

“Again, I don't flirt. I just say what I want,” says some woman’s voice on the TV.

“And what do you want?” replies a guy and Sam is dimly aware that they didn’t pick a film in the end, but _Jessica Jones_. Chuck picks that moment to really grind down on Sam and the larger man’s attention is wholly pulled back to his boyfriend.

“Mmm,” Chuck hums, breaking their kiss, “you sure with everything we discussed?” he asks, peppery beard tickling Sam’s cheeks a little.

“Yes… If… I don’t like something, I’ll ask you to stop. Or I’ll stop,” Sam repeats.

“Good, good. O—” Chuck doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Sam lifts the smaller man off of his lap and drops him on the couch. “Fuck!” Chuck yelps as Sam launches himself at him.

Eager hands working on Chuck’s belt buckle, Sam manages to get to the prize he’s been stealing himself for. Chuck’s cock bounces free from his clothes and Sam finally looks at it, want pooling low and hot in his belly.

Sam surges forward, hands digging into Chuck’s thighs as he takes his boyfriend’s cock in his mouth. He laps at the salty pre-come beading the tip and then sinks his mouth down all the way until his nose is brushing Chuck’s curling pubes. Sam hasn’t gone down on another guy since he was last with Brady and that was years ago, but if there was one thing that Brady had liked about Sam it was his blow jobs.

“Is… is it… fuck… is it okay if… I put… hand… in… hair?” Chuck garbles, and Sam looks up at Chuck. His boyfriend’s face is flushed and his hair is sticking to his forehead a little. Sam hums a yes down Chuck’s shaft, making him gasp and keen. Then Chuck’s right fingers curl into Sam’s hair, gripping him tight, but not too tight.

Rather than control how Sam moves his head, Chuck just clings on to Sam’s hair as Sam sucks and teases, tongue dipping in under Chuck’s head just so on each upward motion. Head bobbing at an even speed, Sam feels giddy with lust, a little surprised that he had waited this long to really taste Chuck. Nostrils filled with the heady scent of Chuck’s musk, Sam works his boyfriend’s dick like it has the elixir to eternal life contained within.

He’d missed being able to pleasure someone in such an intimate way, but choosing to do it. Sam knew this was so different to almost every encounter he had had with Ruby. Chuck had made it very clear that Sam could get out of the act if he wanted or needed to.

Sam’s saliva drips down Chuck’s length, slicking Chuck’s balls. Snaking a hand across Chuck’s thigh and dipping it down between the Chuck’s legs, Sam gently takes Chuck’s balls in hand and fondles them, head not missing a beat as he continues to bob and suck. Bob and suck. He wants Chuck to come, wants to lap up every last drop. Humming again, velvety throat vibrating around Chuck’s length, Sam listens to the little whimpers and high keening sounds that Chuck makes.

“Sam…” Chuck pants, “gonna… gonna come.”

But Sam doesn’t move at the warning, instead redoubling his efforts as he pushes Chuck closer and closer to the brink of orgasm. Heat pools in Sam’s belly and his own dick is pressing and rubbing against his jeans. The sounds Chuck is producing are making Sam’s dick throb and then Chuck pulls tight on his hair and it’s all over. Chuck pulses down Sam’s throat as Sam moans, his own orgasm almost coming out of nowhere, making his mind bloom with floating blankness. His underwear and jeans suddenly feel a little moist.

“Dammit, Sam,” Chuck moans, hand falling away from Sam’s hair. Sam rears back on his legs and looks up at Chuck’s lust blown pupils. Suggestively licking his own lips and swallowing, Sam watches Chuck watching him do this. Then Sam stands and Chuck’s eyes come to rest on Sam’s crotch. “Oh...”

Sam blushes, but doesn’t hide the visible damp patch on his jeans. “You taste _good_ ,” Sam says in a husky voice.

Chuck reaches a hand up and pulls Sam back down onto the couch as he pulls his own jeans up. Suddenly Sam has Chuck wrapped around him, the smaller man burying his face in the crook of Sam’s neck.

Something’s mumbled into the side of Sam’s neck, but he doesn’t quite catch what. Shifting Chuck a way a little and kissing his cheek, Sam asks, “What was that?”

“I… uh… said that was the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”

Sam raises an eyebrow and licks his lips. Chuck tracks the movement of his mouth and Sam can’t help bringing Chuck closer and whispering in his ear, “That was just me warming up.”

A tremor ripples through Chuck and Sam pulls him back onto his lap, ignoring the wetness that is pressed against him. Making out like horny teenagers, Sam doesn’t register that they’re now on the second episode of Jessica Jones. This whole Netflix and chill thing is definitely working for him, Sam decides as his tongue gifts Chuck a taste of himself.

This evening had been the biggest leap in their relationship in a long while, but Sam felt good for making the decision for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this. Kudos welcome and I will endeavor to answer all comments.
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr at [dreamsfromthebunker](https://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com).


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